The air smells like freshly cut grass. There�s no place to park at the library. And the baseball season has officially started. Yep, spring is here, and I�m going to be needing a barf bucket.

Me and baseball go way back, and my dislike of baseball goes back almost as far.

There was a time when I let my parents brainwash me into watching the game on TV and picking a favorite player and thinking baseball was the greatest thing to ever happen.

There was a time when I played right field and showed up at every practice and every game.

I played and played and played and hated it and hated it and hated it. My parents, in their infinite wisdom, decided the best course of action was to ignore the part where I hated it and continue to push me. For some reason, they couldn�t grasp the concept that I hated playing baseball, mostly because I was no good at it.

I guess they just assumed I�d get better at it over time, but they didn�t take into account that I didn�t want to get better at it. I would stand out in right field (the coach would always put me out there where he knew I�d rarely come in contact with the ball) and watch the game�for a little while. Then I�d get bored, because there was nothing happening. I�d start watching the spectators or thinking about what I�d get to eat after the game or what I was doing this weekend that didn�t involve baseball. Then I�d snap back into reality just in time to find that the ball had, in fact, been hit to me and I�d scramble to get the ball to someone else and pretend the whole thing never happened.

I wasn�t much better at the plate. I had a tendency to strike out on a regular basis, which often led to me getting pissed and pitching a fit in the dugout. I had a penchant for throwing things: the bat, my baseball helmet, whatever I could find. This did not please the other players or the coaches.

So I hated baseball and I sucked at baseball and suddenly it was another year and it was time for baseball signup again. My father tried to drag me down to City Hall along with him, but I was not going to waste another summer on this crap. I don�t remember how I finally sold him on the �I DON�T WANT TO PLAY� concept (maybe he was a little short on cash that week), but he finally gave up and that was the last year I played baseball.

However, my two younger brothers, Dumb (who is 10) and Dumber (who is 11) continue to play, honing their lack of skill at a sport that will not serve them beyond their elementary- to middle-school years. Speaking of elementary and middle school, their work is suffering at the hands of this sport, something I�ll never understand. When you have no talent in a given field, but enjoy sucking at whatever it may be despite the fact that you�ve lost sight of what�s really important, when does the time come that you say �Wait a minute�?

Apparently never. My parents have grand illusions of Dumber (Dumb's skills tend to lie more in the area of hockey) making millions of dollars playing a sport he�s not good at. If he had talent, this might not be such a problem, as players often end up with multiyear, million-dollar deals, but again, if. And it�s not just that he sucks; lots of people suck, which is why the market will bear the aforementioned millions and millions for the people that don�t. It�s that he doesn�t know that he sucks. He thinks he�s the greatest thing ever to happen to baseball. And don�t try to tell him otherwise, or he�ll throw a fit and run to tell his parents, who will comfort him and encourage Dumber and his little fantasy world.

Another point I take issue with in terms of baseball is the television coverage. Baseball games can, and often do, go long. They tend to be scheduled for three hours, but the endlessness of the sports tends to drag them into a fourth and sometimes a fifth hour of the same old thing. As a fan of regularly scheduled programming, I abhor any and all sporting events that encroach on my viewing pleasure, and I derive zero pleasure from watching baseball.

The entire concept of the sport � hit a ball with a stick, run around a square shape, tag the other players out � so simple, so why does this warrant four hours? Of course, any sport is better in person, but for how long can you watch the repetitive droning on before you switch over to a Golden Girls rerun or a Turbo Cooker infomercial? Sure, they�re just as repetitive and (occasionally) boring, but they never, ever run over their allotted time (unless some sporting event is involved, and then it�s not their fault).

So I guess the point is, I hate baseball. A lot of it has to do with my upbringing, and a lot of it has to do with my love of television, but most of it rests on the fact that I can�t understand the draw of sports (all sports, not just baseball) and their magnetic hold over people, their power to generate billions and billions of dollars each year. I guess I just don�t get it, and that�s fine, because at sixteen, I�m set in my ways. I don�t want to change.

Take baseball: you can have it. I�d much rather watch a rerun of Friends.